And The Xym got a lapdance from the sexy Hexe!
Well, as he lounged on the pseudo sofa like a greek God awaiting the barmaid to disrobe into a flimsy toga and feed him grapes (or grateful gropes), she sat on his legs.
Which is as near a lapdance The Xym is likely to get!
Anyhoo, whilst later sat outside to the soothing sounds of the night (owls, crickets, the tweeting of of birds¹, and the dulcet tones of high-pitched karoke of sex being on fire {hence the squeaky redition due to genital arson}), it would appear that during The Festivities, The Xym acquired a blue tongue!
How exactly the discoloration occurred is a mystery. Accusations of oral pleasurement of the manky mouldy minges of skank ho punkettes in the toilets during the supports acts abound, as the blue dye in their mohican brazillian seeped down to fester in their fungal flange.
Or it could be the Black Wolf vodka - for Men who is Men, and not The Womens.
Or an allergic reaction to prevention of Business Elsewhere involving the perusal of Strictly Come Dancing.
But blue of tongue Xym be.
But concerns of being plague ridden vermin flee from mind, as distraction lies in pretties proclaiming that their fullsome funbags are all natural and containing no enhancement whatsoever. Whilst lifting them about in a most pleasing fashion.
Which was nice.
Alas, the cheery atmos is ruined by racist trollops with nowt better to do on a Friday Night than to promise Polish pretties transportation in 30 mins (after denying Johnny Foreigner a 15 minute wait.). Then, after 45 mins, laugh in the face of the stranded awaiters of carriages informing that they never took the booking.
Bloody immigrants - coming over here, using our taxis! Goldstar? PolishedTurd, more like!
But hurrah for The Xym! For his battery is full, and gets them a taxi within 7 mins!
You need a hero? You need The Xym!
And during that long wait for unbooked taxis, not only did I learn a modicum of Polish (since forgotten as the knowledge dissipated with the alcohol) and the mating cry of that rarest of creatures, the PigDog, the serving wench pressed cranial apparel upon us!
For we had left behind A Cap. Now, only Dan had a cap, and it's apparently not his. I think he telleth The Porkies. It is indeed a splendid cap. Why, it fair makes you look like a 50¢ Blazin' Squad too cool for skool dude! As Dan's disowning this icon of fashionwear, I may have to buy a Mr Motivator leoturd or mankini and go down the 80s night like a real righteous dude, man!
Check me out in the pic below - Is I da Fresh Prince, or is I the shizzle?
Sizzle Xym's schnitzel, blood! Word!
¹ ON THEIR EYEPHONES, SOCIAL NETWORKING.
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING PICTURE ACTUALLY ENCAPSULATES AN ACCURATE PORTRAYAL OF THE HORRENDOUS TROLL LIKE VISAGE OF THE XYM, AS CAPTURED BY THE SOUL-CAPTURING DEVIL BOX OF PAINTING IMPS. LOOK NO FURTHER IF YOU HAVE NO WISH TO SCOUR YOUR EYEBALLS WITH A BRILLO PAD OF VIEWING THIS FACIALLY DISADVANTAGED DEFORMITY. YE HATH BEEN WARNED!!
